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“It was great getting both of their perspectives, feeling their doubts, and hoping they would see the light. I really enjoyed watching the two of them work through their feelings while hearing their thoughts. There was a beautiful steamy scene between the young lovers…” ~ KindleRomance, The Romance Reviews

“The story has a nice buildup…Trouble between Marcus and his father showcased the emotional depth of both characters well, and…intense scenes of “almost” made for some very entertaining and hot moments…Sexy, Sweet, Charmer.” ~ Alex, Rainbow Book Reviews

“This book has it all people. Friendship, love, anticipation and finally a scorching love scene that makes you melt! HOT HOT HOT! I’m a sucker for erotic romance and this book delivers.” ~ Bunnyfairie (Amazon reviews)

Marcus is the son of a marquess. Race is the son of the housekeeper. Their relationship should only be one of master and servant, yet they defy the strictures of Society and become close friends.

Race’s riding accident throws Marcus’s newfound sexual feelings for his friend into sharp relief. Terrified and confused, Marcus runs back to London and school and all things familiar. A year later, older and (maybe) wiser, he returns to the country, certain his attraction to Race was a fluke brought about by the accident…only to discover Race has become damn near irresistible.

Loving another man is illegal and can lead to death. Will Marcus defy Society and take Race as his lover? More importantly, does Race feel the same way? Is he willing to become a lord’s lover?

Marcus Weston, Earl of Wareham, heir to the Marquess of Huntington, blinked awake, the fresh country breeze blowing in from the window reminding him he was no longer in London. Excitement raced down his spine as he thought of the many things he wanted to do before summer was over. With Race. The best thing was, his father wouldn’t be around. The marquess was away racing his horses, and Marcus hoped he won every one of them. Winning would make certain his father was in a good temperament when he finally arrived at Huntington.

Marcus bounded out of bed and performed the necessary, eager to see Race. Horace Bates was the only son of the housekeeper and Marcus’s childhood playmate. The elder by two years, Race was the one who showed him around the village, taught him working with his hands wasn’t something to be ashamed of and demonstrated that friendship transcended the man-made ranks of Society. He provided Marcus with a deeper insight into life he wouldn’t have gotten elsewhere, and for that, for the good friend Race was to him, Marcus would always be grateful.

He stilled as he shrugged midway into the shirt. He couldn’t forget that day, one summer ago, when Race had almost lost his life. When everything Marcus had known about himself had turned upside-down. He shook off the memory and continued dressing. The past months with all the women had surely cured him of that.

Race was his best friend, the closest friend he had, and that was all there was to it.

One hour later, having finished his breakfast, he was striding toward the side door to the stable when Mrs. Bates stopped him.

“My lord, may I say it’s good to see you back?”

Marcus smiled. “Thank you.”

She hesitated. “I wonder if I might have a word, my lord?”

“Certainly, Mrs. Bates.” He glanced to the right. “Might we use the Blue Room?”

“Yes. I have ordered the maids to clean it in anticipation of your arrival.”

“Please.” He inclined his head and gestured for her to precede him. The sun shone in through the wide windows, making the room cheery and bright. When they were seated, Marcus asked, “How may I help you, Mrs. Bates?”

“It’s Race,” she said, looking at him directly.

Marcus was jolted by the sight of those grey eyes, so similar to Race’s it was like seeing him there in the room. His heartbeat speeded, and he identified the feeling as excitement and anticipation, with some nervousness. He reasoned with some desperation that it was only natural for him to feel this way, since he hadn’t seen his best friend in several months. Who knew if Race had grown arrogant over time and believed an earl was now not fit company for him? That Marcus would be anxious was not unreasonable.

Or so he tried to convince himself.

Not wanting to analyze himself any further, he asked, “What about Race? He’s well and fully recovered from his fall last summer, isn’t he?”

“Yes, my lord. Thank you for your concern.”

Marcus experienced a twinge of shame at the slight rebuke in her voice. Race was his best friend, but what kind of friend had he been? When Race had been confined to his bed due to injuries, Marcus had fled to London and lost himself in the perfumed arms of women.

Mrs. Bates fidgeted. “That isn’t the problem. Race has always been considerate of my wishes, but now, he won’t listen to me, and I wonder if I could trouble you, my lord, to talk to him—”

“Tell me. I will help if I can.” Everyone at Huntington knew of his close friendship with Race, and Marcus wasn’t surprised Mrs. Bates came to him with this request. Alert and—he admitted—intrigued, Marcus leaned forward, hands clasped at the knee. Race was a filial son. Marcus couldn’t imagine him defying his mother in anything.

Mrs. Bates drew in a deep breath. “Race is of age, and it’s high time he has a family. There’s this nice girl in the village who fancies him—Sarah Oaks…”

Marcus didn’t hear the rest as a loud noise filled his ears. Race, married. A pretty, young woman beside him. A brood of children clinging to his knees. Family. Permanence. Lost to him forever.

Something in him rejected the images, and a dark, strong emotion stabbed at him. No!